"Shall we take my car?” Cyn asked. “I don't think these heels were designed for a walk in the woods."
Alexandra laughed gaily and turned to lead the way downstairs. “Too bad you're not Vampire, Cynthia. Mirabelle and I wouldn't have any problem at all.” She turned back with a private look for Mirabelle. “Would we, darling?"
Mirabelle flushed and gave Cyn a sideways glance. “The car's fine, Cyn. I don't want to get all sweaty before I even get there.” She huffed a deprecating laugh. “I'm sure I'll sweat plenty once it starts."
"Don't be silly,” Alexandra said breezily, waiting for Mirabelle to catch up to her and linking their arms. “You'll be fine. Won't she, Cynthia?” This last was cast over her shoulder as the two vampires proceeded down the stairs.
"Yes, Alexandra, she will,” Cyn said. “Mirabelle will be just fine."
Chapter Forty-six
Juro was waiting for them at the main house, his twin brother—who never seemed to talk and whose name Cyn still didn't know—stood next to him, as always. Two seven-foot, stolid trees guarding the gates of Raphael's inner sanctum. Juro eyed Cyn warily, clearly convinced she had a weapon concealed somewhere on her person, but having no idea where it might be hiding beneath her form fitting dress. He gave her a resigned look and Cyn patted his trunk-like arm in sympathy.
"My brother is expecting us, Juro,” Alexandra said with a trace of impatience.
"He is, Alexandra,” Juro agreed. Cyn saw Alexandra's ladylike mouth tighten slightly and wondered if there was some tension between Raphael's sister and his chief bodyguard. If there was, Juro was clearly unperturbed by it. He turned and led the way, his twin waiting until they'd gone past before taking up the rearguard position.
Up the stairs and down the long hall they walked in a little parade until reaching the huge pair of elaborately carved doors in front of Raphael's office. Juro paused to knock once, waiting as the doors swung wide, unaided by any visible hand. He stepped back and the three women entered, Alexandra foremost, Mirabelle and Cyn together behind her.
Raphael's was a working office, with bookcases reaching from the floor to a high ceiling. Rolling ladders were stationed at intervals to provide access to the uppermost shelves, which were filled with books of all shapes, sizes and ages. It was a room more suited to a researcher of some sort, a professor of history, perhaps, rather than a vampire lord. But when one has lived for centuries, history becomes a very personal affair, Cyn supposed.
Raphael sat behind a massive desk, Duncan standing to one side. Behind them was a wall of glass showing nothing but the moon-capped ocean. Juro had taken up a position to the right of the door, next to his twin brother, and sandwiched between them was a vampire Cyn didn't recognize. She took in his dark clothing and perpetual sneer and realized this was almost certainly Jabril's witness. No wonder Juro and his brother were guarding him so carefully.
She glanced at Mirabelle, but the young girl seemed not to have eyes for anyone but Raphael. Cyn met his black gaze and had to admit he was a sight well worth looking at.
Raphael stood as they approached, his gaze grazing over Cyn's bare legs and emerald-clad form before finally meeting her eyes with a heat that made her very glad she'd taken the time to choose carefully. His lips barely tilted in an appreciative smile before he donned a more somber expression and looked at Mirabelle expectantly.
"You requested to see me, Mirabelle?” he asked formally.
"Yes, my lord.” Mirabelle's voice was raspy with nerves and it took her two tries to get the few words out. She paused, obviously irritated at herself, and then drew a long breath of courage and bowed deeply. “My lord Raphael,” she said, coming upright. “It is my honor to request your permission to relocate from the territories and suzerainty of my Sire, Jabril Karim. I offer you my allegiance and my service if you would have me, my lord."
Alexandra nodded her approval and beamed proudly, her gaze switching between Mirabelle and Raphael.
"And does your Sire consent to this relocation, Mirabelle?” Raphael's smooth voice asked the necessary question, although everyone there knew the answer.
"No, my lord, he does not. I have come to you of my own free will and desire."
Cyn heard a stirring behind her at Mirabelle's words and saw Raphael's eyes flash over her shoulder to where Jabril's witness was standing. He held the vampire's gaze for only a second before turning his attention back to Mirabelle.
"You understand,” he said to her. “That should I accept you, all prior allegiance to your Sire will be forfeit. You will be as my own."
"Yes, my lord."
"And is this what you truly desire?"
"With all my heart, my lord, it is my desire."
"Very well.” Raphael slipped out of his suit jacket with a graceful shrug and draped it over his desk. Cyn felt a tug of desire low in her body as he unbuttoned his left shirt cuff and began to roll it up his forearm with economical movements. She had a weakness for beautiful hands on a man. Raphael's hands were strong, his fingers long and square, his forearms smoothly muscled. She swallowed dryly and squelched memories of what those hands could do.
Duncan had produced a small jeweled knife, no more than six inches long, its sharp edge gleaming against the age-blackened metal of the blade. Raphael glanced at the weapon and nodded as he walked around the desk. “Kneel before me, Mirabelle."
Mirabelle took a step forward and dropped to her knees, landing with a grace that would have done any courtier proud. All that practice was standing her in good stead tonight. Raphael placed both hands on Mirabelle's bowed head. Nothing seemed to happen for a few minutes, and then Mirabelle sighed in obvious pleasure and pink tears began to roll from beneath her closed eyelids.
Raphael lifted his hands, extending the right one toward Duncan who silently handed him the jeweled knife. Cyn swallowed a small gasp as, without warning, Raphael ran the sharp blade over the soft skin beneath his left wrist, opening a three inch vertical slice. Blood welled immediately, staining the rolled edge of his pristine white cuff before he lowered his hand and let it run into his cupped palm. Mirabelle's nose twitched and her eyes sprang open to gaze hungrily at the feast before her—the blood of a vampire lord, richer and more powerful than the blood of any creature on earth, far richer than anything Mirabelle would ever have tasted before, except perhaps for her nightmarish turning at the hands of Jabril. And Cyn had to believe Raphael's blood would be sweeter than anything Jabril could produce.
Raphael watched the young vampire silently, withholding his arm until the blood was a growing pool in his broad palm, until it filled the creases between his fingers and threatened to drip to the carpet, until Mirabelle was near to breaking from the temptation before her. And then he offered it with the most minuscule movement toward her waiting mouth. Mirabelle responded eagerly, reaching for his arm, her hands shaking with the effort to move slowly, deliberately. When Raphael made no move to deny her, to pull from her grasp, she closed her eyes in ecstasy and lowered her mouth to the rushing blood.
Mirabelle gave an orgasmic moan, her throat working steadily as she drank in Raphael's bounty. Cyn wanted to look away, feeling like an intruder, a voyeur witnessing something that should have been intensely private. Instead she watched, determined to witness Mirabelle's submission to her new lord, to acknowledge this part of Raphael's life. She watched him too, his dark head bent, eyes closed, the muscles of his forearm clenched to keep the blood flowing. How long could he keep this up?
No sooner had the thought occurred than Raphael was touching Mirabelle gently with his other hand. She pulled away instantly with a pleasurable sigh, her tongue sweeping out to lick her bloodied lips, to salvage every last drop of the precious fluid. She sat back on her heels and gazed up at her new master, a look of utter worship on her flushed face.
"Thank you, Master,” she said in a low, sensuous purr, not at all like her regular voice.
Raphael looked down at her, his expression one of bemused patience. “You are most welcome, Mirabelle."
Duncan stepped forward almost immediately, reaching down to help Mirabelle to her feet. She stumbled slightly, giddy, drunk almost, from the potent blood. “Come, little one,” he said. “We've planned a small celebration in your honor."
She gave him the delighted smile of a child. “A party? For me?"
"For you,” Duncan agreed. He took her arm and guided her out of the room. Jabril's witness was gone, apparently escorted away at some point by Juro's twin who was also absent. Cyn could only hope the escort would take him all the way to the airport and a plane back to Texas.
Juro stood waiting outside the open door, his usually solemn face creasing in fond amusement when Mirabelle greeted him like a long lost friend. Alexandra started to follow, but paused, turning back to look at Cyn.
"Cynthia?"
Cyn was watching Raphael as he stemmed the flow of blood, bending his arm and putting pressure above the wound. His face was expressionless, as though this sort of thing happened all the time, as if the blood dripping from his fingers to soak into the elegant Persian rug was an inconvenience, nothing more. His black eyes came up suddenly to meet hers, and Cyn was struck by a need so strong it would have driven her to her knees had she not had a chair to hang onto.
"Go ahead, Alexandra,” she said breathlessly. “I'll catch up."
Alexandra's burgeoning protest was aborted when Raphael's gaze shifted to her. There was nothing of brotherly warmth in that look. Alexandra sighed unhappily and spun around, her fashionable heels thudding softly against the carpet as she marched out the door which closed silently behind her.
Raphael let out a small relieved breath and leaned back to sit on the edge of his desk.
"Are you all right?” Cyn asked, indicating his wounded arm with a nod of her head.
Raphael gave her a crooked smile. “I love when you worry about me, my Cyn. No one else does."
